


The Grey Dragonborn

by Bard_TheChronicler



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bard_TheChronicler/pseuds/Bard_TheChronicler
Summary: Alistair Theirin: Grey Warden. King of Ferelden. Hero. He sacrificed his life to kill the Archdemon and end the fifth Blight, but fate was not about to let him off so easily. Somehow, he finds himself far away in an unknown land with a familiar and yet vastly different enemy.
Kudos: 6





	The Grey Dragonborn

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written by The Wandering Bard many years ago (but I have received permission to rewrite and post it since he is no longer writing fanfics)

Alistair staggered to his feet, breathing hard. Half his face was wet with blood that oozed out from a cut to the side of his head that he had suffered earlier. It was not too deep, but Maker did it sting even through the adrenaline filling his veins.

They had been fighting for hours throughout the city of Denerim, and the city was a chaotic mass of battle and destruction. The Archdemon and its darkspawn army was on its last legs, but so were they. They needed to end this before the battle dragged on any longer.

Alistair could feel his body starting to give out on him, muscles straining simply to keep himself upright. He had lost his sword at some point while taking down an ogre and he looked around frantically, trying to find it, but his gaze stopped on the one person in the world he loved most of all.

She was down on one knee only a few feet away, her dual swords held tightly in her hands, breathing heavily and clearly exhausted. She was covered from head to toe in splatters of black blood, her fiery red hair dulled by the black filth. He did not doubt that he looked the same way, his golden armor, an ostentatious thing they had given him to symbolize his very recent ascent to the throne, was no longer shining as it was covered in dirt, blood, and guts.

Around them, the crackling of fire and the ringing sounds of battle could be heard, cries of pain and anger sometimes piercing through the battle noise, punctuated by explosions here and there.

When she started to get up, he noted the look in her eyes as she stared at the wounded Archdemon ahead of them. Alistair made his decision right then.

"Hold on," he said, quickly looking over to the fallen dragon to check if it was getting back to its senses yet. "I know that you told Riordan that you would deal the final blow, but let me do it. Please. This is my duty." He willed her to accept it, but deep down knew that she would not do so easily.

She was a strong-willed woman, and stubborn to a fault. That was partly why he had fallen for her in the first place. Of course, it helped that she was easy on the eyes too.

"This is my duty as much as it is yours, Alistair. We're both Grey Wardens here," she said, her eyes narrowing at him with barely concealed anger. The way she looked at him made his heart ache.

He had been a fool to break it off with her. Maker, he had been a fool to accept her suggestion for him to be king, the one thing that he had repeatedly told himself for years that he would never become. Yet here he was now, King of Ferelden, covered in darkspawn blood, and battling a dragon Archdemon at the top of Fort Drakon with the woman whose heart he had broken. And with a shattered heart of his own.

"True enough," he conceded, "But I got one up on you. Technically, I'm the more senior of the two of us. And I'm not just a Grey Warden now either. I'm the King of Ferelden."

"And that is exactly why I need to be the one to do this. You need to live, Alistair. Somebody has to pick up the pieces once this is all over, and the kingdom will need its fair ruler in the days to come far more than some poor city elf, Grey Warden or no." With that said, she turned away and took a step towards the dragon, but Alistair grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back and she did not have the strength to resist. She glared at him with hard eyes.

"I can't let you do that," said Alistair grimly, mouth set in a line. "I want to be a good king, but I am no leader. I don't like politics and I don't know the first thing about ruling. . . so this. . . doing this might be the best thing I can do as king. For my first and last act as king, I would give my life to stop this Blight. No one could blame me for that, could they?"

"No, they probably couldn't," she said, her hard eyes searching his face, "But that's not the only reason, is it?"

He sighed, giving her a sad smile. "You're right, as usual," he said somberly, taking a step forward to better stare into her emerald green eyes. How many times had he lost himself in them over these past six months? How many times had he woken up and searched for them, taking comfort in the fact that she looked at him with such love and passion as to make the bards sing? "I know how I feel about you, now more than ever. I love you, and I won't let you die. I won't allow it, not when I can do something about it."

Her serious expression broke unexpectedly, her emerald orbs suddenly engulfed in liquid. "You fool," she said so softly he almost did not hear it. "I won't let you die either."

They stared at each other for a few seconds before he pulled her in close, holding her tight as she returned his embrace.

"You say that as if I'm giving you a choice," he said. She was turned towards him and unable to see the archdemon beginning to stir again behind her, but she felt him stiffen up and heard the rumblings of movement behind her.

She tried to move, but he held her to him firmly, and she looked up at him in confusion.

Alistair spotted a sword embedded into a dead darkspawn between them and the dragon and he did not stop to think about it any longer. He quickly kissed her, much to her surprise, and then he unceremoniously threw her as gently as he could to the ground. Springing forward, he ran towards the dragon as fast as his legs could take him.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled back to her. His weary hands found the hilt of the sword he had been eyeing and he wrenched it out of the dead body as he passed, bringing it up to use one last time.

"Alistair!" she cried behind him, her tone a mixture of shock and anguish.

The dragon saw him coming and reared its head a little. Growling. Waiting.

Alistair realized only after he had picked up the sword that he had no idea what he was actually going to do to kill the dragon, and for a brief second panicked, before shaking it off and trusting in his instincts and his reflexes to do what needed to be done. He had come this far and was not going to die here without finishing the job.

The Archdemon roared once he was close enough and then lunged at him with open jaws, exposing its numerous and bloodied sharp teeth.

"Aggghhh!" Alistair yelled back in defiance as he dropped to his knees and slid across the hard stone, pointing the sword upwards and thrusting with all his strength. His blade pierced the dragon deeply, gouging out a huge cut across half the length of its long neck as its head zoomed over him, the jaws closing on the empty space where he had been only a second earlier.

The dragon snapped its head back, roaring in pain as blood spewed forth from the long gash, splashing onto the stones beneath them.

He rolled to the left as the dragon came crashing down with a heavy, ground-shaking thud. It was still alive, but only just barely, finally feeling the effects of all the wounds that it had suffered thus far. Getting to his feet, Alistair stepped close to its head, and the eye on that side of the dragon watched him with what he hoped was fear.

Alistair glanced one last time over to the crying red-haired woman who was on her knees on the ground, her blades resting on the stone next to her, and he smiled. "Now _that_ was badass," he called out tiredly.

She nodded quickly and smiled back, her mouth opening as if to say something but was unable to speak loudly enough for him to hear as she was wracked by sobs. Though he imagined she was saying something along the lines of: "You heroic fool." Or it could have been "I love you." Yes, that sounded nicer. Much nicer.

He returned his attention to the dragon, raising his sword up high with both hands, pointing the tip of the blade down. He hesitated for only a moment, wondering how he would die from this, before he plunged the blade into the thick of the dragon's head. The dragon roared and so did Alistair as the weapon slid deep into the Archdemon's flesh.

The reaction was immediate. Bright energy started to pour out from the killing blow in the form of a blindingly bright light. The dragon stopped moving, stopped breathing, and as the light got brighter and the waves of energy got bigger, there was a rumbling across the ground that was felt throughout the city. A beam of energy shot up into the sky from the wound, bathing Alistair in its light as a powerful wind began to swirl around him. In his hands, the sword began to hum and vibrate, and yet he could not let go of it.

The light was washing over him, and he thought maybe even flowing into him, though he could have simply been imagining it. Simultaneously feeling frightened and awed, he felt a sudden warmth surge over him quickly followed by a raging, burning pain that emanated first from his chest and radiated out to every cell of his body.

He tried to yell but he was not sure if he succeeded because the howling of the wind and the rushing sound of the escaping energy overwhelmed his ears. Great pain followed, as if his very bones were being extracted from his body while he was still conscious. For a few agonizing seconds, all he wanted was for the torture to end. Then the pain abruptly stopped and everything went utterly dark.

Alistair Theirin was dead before his body hit the ground.


End file.
